Kars Goes Cars Shopping
by TheOneAndOnlyLysandre
Summary: The world is fresh and new, and Funny Valentine decides to start over by opening his own used car lot in modern day USA. No way that could backfire. (SPOILERS FOR ALL PARTS, EXTREME LANGUAGE/VIOLENCE)


KARS GOES CAR SHOPPING

PROLOGUE: GOTTA LOVE AMERICA

It was Valentine's first day on the job, and he was so fucking excited to sell some fucking cars and show off how great capitalism is that he just had to shout it to the heavens. "Fuck yeah!" he shouted to the heavens, "I am just so fucking excited to sell some fucking cars and show off how great capitalism is that I have to shout it to the heavens!" A huge neon sign he had just had installed with the help of his friends Other Valentine and Valentine From the Fucking Jorge Joestar Novel flickered to life outside his new dealership: 'DATSUN DEALS DONE DIRT CHEAP.' An oversized outdoor stereo on a pole began to pump a Shania Twain song as Valentine high fived an alternate universe copy of himself hiding between his shoe and the ground, because he's motherfucking Valentine. An old silver car slowed down in front of the dealership as the passenger window rolled down. "Ah," Valentine said to his friend Valentine Between His Sock and His Ankle, "here comes my first customer!"

"Hey, powdered wig fag!" Hermes shouted, leaning out of the window and smacking her awesome ass, "they stopped calling Nissan Datsun back before Pucci even reset the universe! What, are you from the fucking 1800s or some shit?"

"Is it that obvious?" Valentine asked, double checking to make sure he had changed from his wool and lace petticoat to his fancy modern car selling suit.

"Weirdo! Irene, stop the car!" she continued. "I wanna get something!"

"Hermes, no!" Emporio shouted in the timbre and pitch of Baby Mario screaming his fucking ass off in the goddamned GBA Yoshi's Island remake (or, worse, Emporio in ASB), grasping at Hermes with his midgetly little midget arms as she stuck a sticker on the door and then tore it off, shattering the glass open so she could climb out because she's fucking Hermes. "Car theft is what you were in prison for last world!"

"No, that was me," Irene corrected him.

"Sorry," Emporio replied. "Been a while since I read Part 6." His concentration gone, he didn't realize that Hermes had crawled out of the glass and was twerking across the lot to the GTR on display beside Valentine. "Hahaha!" Hermes laughed, smacking her amazing ass while twerking across the lot to the GTR on display beside Valentine, "your concentration was gone, so you didn't realize that I had crawled out of the glass and was smacking my amazing ass while twerking across the lot to the GTR on display beside Valentine! Fag!"

"Hello, citizen!" Valentine shouted, extending a friendly American hand to Hermes. "Isn't it great we live in a society where black women like you can afford to buy a car, instead of just stealing them like the fucking racial stereotypes in Part 2? Hooray for America!"

"Damnit," Hermes whined, "now I can't steal the car or I'll look like a racial stereotype, and we were supposed to have stopped those after Part 3. Emporio, get the fuck over here. I need your help." Emporio waddled over on his midgetly little midget legs as commanded. "Emporio, take this sticker and put it on the GTR."

"B-b-but Hermes, that's vandalism! I don't want to go to prison for real!" he whined, pissing his midgetly midget pants.

"Do it you little faggot!" Hermes shouted, as Emporio took a sticker from her and stuck it on the GTR, causing a second GTR appeared beside it. Hermes climbed in the second one, hot-wired it with her amazing hotwiring skills, stuck a sticker on the window, ripped it off, shattering the window, because fucking Hermes, and pulled Emporio in through the window, lacerating several of his midgetly arteries as he was dragged over the jagged glasss remains.

"Hermes, I think I lacerated several of my midgetly arteries," he whined with his midgetly little vocal chords.

"Don't worry, you little shitmidget, the seats are leather, it wont stain."

"Excuse me, fine American woman," Valentine's friend Valentine Inside the Lacerated Midget Artery asked, his head appearing from one of the lacerations in Emporio's midgetly arteries. "You wouldn't be stealing this car, would you?"

"Noooo!" Hermes replied, laughing. "Of course not! See, the old car's right there. It's not stealing, I just... made a copy of it. And then I'm taking the copy. It's like torrenting new episodes of Jojo."

"Oh, okay. That sounds pretty American to me," Valentine's friend Valentine Inside the Lacerated Midget Artery replied, disappearing back into the laceration in Emporio's midgetly artery.

"I'm about to die of blood loss," Emporio reminded Hermes kindly.

"Then I better take you to a hospital, FAST!" Hermes replied, laughing maniacally as she sped up to 150 MPH and rocketed into the distance.

"I'm sorry about her," Irene sighed. "She just hasn't been the same since the universe reset."

"I know that feeling," Valentine's friend Fat Valentine From The First Half of Part 7 said, popping out of Irene's cleavage. "Congrats on your first sale, Regular, Ripped Valentine. How much did you make?"

"Well, it was certainly dirt cheap," Regular Ripped Valentine replied, sighing and flexing his awesome muscles while posing like an American badass. "Still, that internet piracy argument was flawless. So the only damage done was this damn sticker on my floor model. Don't worry, though, I'll-"

"NO!" Irene shouted, "DON'T-"

"Dojyaan, and the stain is gone!" Regular Ripped Valentine crooned, sexily removing the sticker using his sexy playboy bunny stand. Suddenly the other GTR rushed back at light-speed and the two exploded into an inferno of blood, glass, and metal.

"I got this," Weather Report sighed from inside the old silver car, snapping his fingers as hundreds of frogs fell from the sky and exploded, their guts putting out the fire.

"Couldn't you have just made it rain, smartass?" Annakiss snapped.

"Nah, that's Little Wayne's stand. Mine is Weather Report. And my report is that it's a lot funnier to make frogs fall from the sky, so fuck you," he replied.

"It's okay," Regular Ripped Valentine told himself, taking a deep breath and replacing himself through a crack in the sidewalk with Not Half Killed in An Exploding GTR Accident Regular Ripped Valentine. "This is America, I have insurance. We're fine."

"But I don't!" Hermes shouted from back inside the old silver car. "Which is why it's good that I had made a copy of myself to keep inside the car so I could teleport out of the car if you had removed that sticker."

"Did you put a sticker on the midget kid?" Not Half Killed in An Exploding GTR Accident Regular Ripped Valentine asked.

"...oops," Hermes replied.

"Don't worry," Josuke Higashikata said, emerging from the Servpro Insurance/Fixing Shit truck that had just pulled up next to the sidewalk. "My stand will make this accident Like It Never Even Happened, Bitches (tm)(c)(r)."

"Ah, thank God we live in America, with such fast service!" Not Half Killed in An Exploding GTR Accident Regular Ripped Valentine sighed with relief, as Josuke started punching the frog-guts covered remains of the car. He kept doing this and shouting "DORA! DORA! DORA!" but the only effect was that his knuckles were starting to bleed and his right hand exploded into a bunch of blood and bone.

"Um, what are you doing?" Hermes asked.

"Well, in the last universe, I could fix things by punching them," Josuke explained.

"What?" California Sunbather Ray-Ban Spokesmodel Regular Ripped Valentine said, emerging the space between the bone and the flayed skin on Josuke's knuckles and adjusting his Ray-Bans. "That sounds just plain unrealistic."

"Um, if you can't do that in this universe, why do you run that fucking business, you faggot?" Hermes politely inquired of Josuke.

"Lack of foresight. Terrible, terrible lack of foresight," Josuke replied. "Yep, these cars are fucked and the midget's dead, sorry, bitches. That'll be $500. I charge hourly, not based on results. Gotta love America, eh Funny?"

"Welcome back," Weather Report told Hermes as she stuck a sticker on the windshield, pulled it off, shattering the windshield, then crawled in through the hole, because fucking Hermes. "Where's Emporio?"

"Oh, he's dead," Hermes replied.

"No, I'm not," Emporio said, floating down to beside her in a cloud. "I still had old universe Weather Report's stand, so I protected myself by building a miniature ozone layer around my body during the crash! Isn't that great?" Hermes didn't respond.

"Who's driving?" Weather Report asked. Annakiss and Irene were 69ing in the backseat so only responded with some negative sounding slurping noises. "Fine," Weather Report replied, "I'll drive, but I get to choose the weather." The old silver car began to pull out as hundreds of Hilary Duff CDs began to rain from the sky.

Not Half Killed in An Exploding GTR Accident Regular Ripped Valentine curled up in the fetal position inside the American flag waving over his neon sign. "I... love... America..." he told himself, sucking his thumb and clinging to D4C. Surely the next sale would be a good one!

"Hello!" a deep voice from below belowed. "I am the ultimate being! Help me purchase an automatic chariot or I will kill all of your employees with my squirrel hand!"

...this job was going to be interesting.

TO BE CONTINUED


End file.
